Then let's try our very best to fake it
by Emjen Enla
Summary: [Complete] The first night they had spent together after the defeat of Erawan all they had done was collapse onto Dorian's narrow cot in the tiny room his was sharing with Fenrys, clutch at each other and sob. Or Dorian and Manon post Kingdom of Ash.


**I do not own Throne of Glass. Title from "Fake It" by Bastille**

* * *

Dorian jerked awake in the darkness of his newly rebuilt tower, gasping for breath. The screams of his own guards echoed through his head along with the suffocating coldness of the Valg prince's influence. He patted at his neck feeling the smooth skin there in an attempt to reassure himself that the collar was gone. He was safe. He had nothing to fear. His mind was his own.

Manon lay in the bed next to him her moon-colored hair spread out across the pillows. Slowly, Dorian eased himself back down onto the bed, eyes never leaving her. He walked his hand across the space between them and ran his fingertips across hers. He felt the places where her iron claws would snap out to cover her regular nails and thought about how easily they could slice through his flesh and end his life. _She could kill you._ He reminded himself. It was the mantra he repeated every time he'd woken in a panic next to her. _If you were possessed she could kill you before you hurt anyone. It's safe. You can relax._

Manon's eyes opened, the luminous gold shining in the darkness. They just stared at each other for several stretching seconds.

"I'm okay," Dorian said after a minute answering the question he knew she was thinking.

Manon raised an eyebrow skeptically. She knew he wasn't alright just as clearly as he knew she wasn't alright. The first night they had spent together after the defeat of Erawan all they had done was collapse onto Dorian's narrow cot in the tiny room his was sharing with Fenrys, clutch at each other and sob. They had eventually cried themselves to sleep and woken in the morning with aching heads and Fenrys still conspicuously missing. They hadn't talked about it but then again they hadn't really needed to, they were both able to fathom the depths of the other's pain without needing to use words.

Manon didn't push Dorian for more details, she knew that he would talk if he wanted to; it was a courtesy he also granted to her. Eventually, however, she reached out with the hand that wasn't touching his and brushed his hair back into place. The gesture was a little awkward and hesitant—Manon was still getting the hang of gestures of affection—but still comforting. "You should go back to sleep," she said. "I'll watch over you."

Dorian knew she didn't mean she'd kill him if he showed any signs of being possessed again, in fact he was pretty sure she didn't even know about that, but it was still comforting. He curled deeper into the blankets and tried to catch a little more sleep.

* * *

Getting back into the palace at Rifthold turned out to be the easiest part of retaking his throne. The Valg were all dead or comatose and the witches had left to fight in Terrasen, so they basically walked right in. The trouble was reinstating control over the panicking population. Dorian, Chaol and Yrene had the khaganate armies with them which allowed them to establish order but that was only a temporary fix. Dorian immediately began reforming Adarlan's army. The people couldn't be allowed to view the khaganate's presence as a foreign occupation and Adarlan needed to be able to defend itself again before the other countries rebuilt enough to wonder if they should be allowed to.

With Manon flying back to the Wastes with her people and Chaol and Yrene occupied with their coming child, Dorian was remarkably alone for those first few weeks. All the advisors he'd appointed after his father's death had either fled or been killed by the witches and the court had never reformed after the destruction of the glass palace. Dorian was king of an empty, echoing palace with far too many ghosts and empty rooms.

Still he tried to make the best of it. He could not begrudge Manon her queendom or Chaol and Yrene their happiness. He hadn't even expected to live to see the end of the war; that should have been enough of him.

So he worked and tried to rebuild his kingdom. He appointed new advisors, he appointed a new Captain of the Guard, he encouraged the sycophants who had made up the court for all his life to return. He was a good king. The only thing he did which raised eyebrows was order that his tower be rebuilt as quickly as possible and sleep in a guest room until it was. He hadn't been able to set foot in his father's chambers after his coronation and the fact that the man had saved his life from the Lock did nothing to change that.

He worked hard and fell exhausted into bed every night only to wake a few hours later panting with panic and wondering if his mind was his own. Sometimes he could get to sleep again sometimes he wouldn't but he always got up the next morning and continued on like nothing had happened. It was nothing new. He'd been having nightmares since Aelin had freed him from Valg control. At first he'd screamed so loud that the guards had come running thinking he was being assassinated but eventually he'd learned to panic silently and he was pretty sure he had most people fooled.

Two days before the night he woke panting next to Manon, he had returned to his newly refurbished tower to find her sitting on his bed, grinning at him. For a few minutes all he did was stare at her.

"What's the matter, princeling?" She asked.

"You're here," He said. Then cursed himself for not coming up with something more eloquent to say.

"Did you really think I wouldn't come to visit?" She asked. Her smile didn't falter but her eyes looked a little hurt.

"I'd hoped you would," Dorian said. A year before he might have managed to make that sound confident or flirty, now he just sounded like he was going to cry from shear relief. "I'm glad you did."

* * *

"I'm going to write my mother and tell her that it's safe for her and Hollin to return to Rifthold," Dorian announced breakfast the morning after he'd woken Manon while panicking.

"You don't have to associate with them if you don't want to," Manon said. "You're the king." She popped another sausage into her mouth and chewed loudly. In the time Dorian had spent traveling with the Thirteen and Manon he'd seen them eat food both raw and cooked and never had been able to tell which they preferred. She was, however, eating with her hands which Dorian suspected was meant to annoy Chaol who was sitting across the table with his mouth puckered in displeasure.

Chaol has not actually pulled Dorian aside for the _"I think we need to talk about your choice of lovers"_ talk that Dorian knew his best friend was dying to have. Chaol had wisely let it go when there was a war going on, but now there was nothing to stop him, especially now that he knew Manon intended to keep visiting. Dorian was dreading that conversation because he didn't know how to explain to his best friend what was going on between him and Manon.

"I know I don't have to," Dorian said. "But my mother deserves better than to be locked up in the mountains and Hollin is my heir. It's in my best interest if he doesn't have reason to hate me." He didn't mention that Hollin was likely to be the only heir he'd ever have. After all, he couldn't see himself ever marrying another woman even if it was just for an heir and any child of his and Manon's would be an immortal witch and therefore heir to her mother's throne.

He pushed the thought of a child with Manon away before it completely formed. He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of being a parent when he barely managed to hold himself together half the time, and he had no idea how Manon felt about such things. Not to mention, witchlings were even rarer than Fae children were; the chances that he and Manon would be able to conceive together even if they tried were not good. It was not even worth considering.

Even if he also wasn't convinced he _didn't_ want to have a baby with Manon.

Chaol ripped his eyes away from Manon. "That makes sense," he said. "You should do that."

 _I don't need your permission._ Dorian thought, then quickly crushed the thought. Chaol did not deserve his frustration. He did not have to come back here with him when he would have been perfectly welcome either in Terrasen or Antica. Dorian should be happy with that. He couldn't ruin it.

* * *

Dorian's mother and brother had spent the war in a castle in the mountains. Dorian's father had sent them there before his death and Dorian had never invited them back.

All in all, that mountain keep was probably the safest place in Adarlan, which was different from saying that the war had not touched them. Rifthold's fall had cut off supply lines and Erawan had sent a small battalion of soldiers and a few witches to blockade the keep. None of Morath's forces had ever tried all that hard to invade that keep which begged the question of what exactly Erawan had been doing. Dorian would have put money on the whole point being to keep tabs on Hollin until Dorian himself could be confirmed dead and Erawan could put Hollin on the throne of Adarlan with a Valg collar around his neck.

No matter what the plan had been, Georgina and Hollin Havilliard had had a much tamer run of the war than Dorian had, but they still had experienced it at least in part. The keep had begun to run out of food in the last months of the war and had gone into pretty heavy rationing. Dorian only knew this from the reports sent by the lord of the keep; his mother's letters were nothing but endless prattling about how much she was looking forward to returning to Rifthold. He hadn't heard anything from Hollin, but that was not exactly unsurprising.

Georgina and Hollin arrived as the sun was setting one morning early in the spring once the snow had melted enough to travel. Dorian, Chaol and Yrene met them on the front steps of the palace. Manon was back in the Wastes, something Dorian was more than a little thankful for; he was not ready to introduce his Irontooth witch lover to his mother yet.

As long as Dorian had been alive, his mother had remained basically unchanged. Her clothes changed with the fashions, but she never seemed to age. Her skin had remained smooth and perfect and her auburn hair remained vibrant as ever. When he'd been a child, Dorian had sometimes wondered if she was secretly Fae and that was how she remained youthful.

Nothing could have prepared him for his mother with lines on her face and gray in her hair. She'd lost weight and the traveling gown she was wearing hung strangely on her. She looked tired and old. Six months in an out-of-the-way keep had aged her more than twenty years in the glass palace of Rifthold had. He barely recognized her.

He could tell from the way her faltered when she saw him, that she barely recognized him either. He supposed that was unsurprising. In the recent months he'd had most of his wardrobe remade. The fashionable things he'd once worn now seemed frivolous, and he'd put on enough muscle since being freed from Valg possession that most of the clothes that had been designed to hug his soft, unhoned prince's body didn't fit him anymore. He still favored the same blue color scheme as he had for most of his life, but the style of his clothes was now decidedly military. Not to mention that there was the pale band of skin from the Valg collar which he couldn't decide whether to hide or to display proudly like a battlescar.

Dorian gave his mother a smile, trying to set her at ease. "Hello, Mother," he said. "How was your trip?" He consciously tried to sound like his old self. Nesryn had told him that his intonation had changed slightly since he'd been freed. Not much, but it was noticeable. _"You sound like you've constantly got something really heavy and all-consuming on your mind,"_ she'd told him. He assumed Chaol and Aelin had noticed as well and just decided not to mention it.

Georgina tried to give him the same sunny smile she'd used hundreds of times a day in court, but it came out a little cracked and tired. "It's good to see you," she said. Even her voice sounded older. "The trip was fine, thank you very much."

They hugged then, but a little awkwardly. Neither of them had much practice in physical affection with the other. When they pulled apart, Dorian motioned Chaol and Yrene forward. "Mother, you remember Chaol, don't you?" he asked. "He's my Hand now."

She nodded to Chaol and he gave her a galant little bow. "Nice to see you again, your majesty."

"And this is his wife, Lady Yrene Towers Westfall of the Torre Cesme," Dorian continued.

Yrene curtseyed. "Your majesty."

Georgina nodded, looking like she was barely paying attention. After a moment, she reached behind her and called, "Hollin, are you going to say hello?"

Footsteps sounded behind her and Dorian looked up to see his little brother standing quietly on the steps behind her.

Hollin had changed as much as Georgina had. His hair had grown long enough that it could be tied back with a ribbon. Like his mother, he'd lost weight and that made him and Dorian look more alike than they ever had before.

The biggest change, however was in mannerisms. The Hollin Dorian had known before would never had stood quietly and waited to be addressed. Hollin surveyed them all with a pinched look of someone who had learned something fundamentally nasty about the world. He didn't look like someone who had just been freed from being possessed by a Valg prince all his life, but he did look different.

Hollin stared up into Dorian's face for a long while before he spoke, "Is this you, Dorian?" he asked. "Is this really you?"

"Of course it is," Dorian said. "Who else would it be?" He ignored the obvious, _"A Valg prince masquerading as you"_ because there was no way that was what Hollin meant. He didn't know what exactly his brother did mean, but he knew it wasn't that; no one in the court had noticed _that_.

Hollin studied Dorian for so long it began to get uncomfortable, then he said, "I'm tired. Do I have a room to sleep in?"

"Yes," Dorian said, caught wrongfooted. "Since your old room was in the glass palace, I had a room made up for you for tonight and then tomorrow you can choose another room."

"Okay," Hollin said. "That sounds good."

Dorian had never heard Hollin say the words "okay" or "good" before. He was starting to wonder if it was possible the boy had been possessed.

"I'll take you to your room," Yrene said, bending down so she was more on Hollin's level and holding out her hand. "Would you like that?"

Hollin eyed Yrene's hand like he wasn't sure what to do with it, then reached out slowly and took it. "I would like that," he said. A pause. "Thank you."

Yrene grinned and straightened up. "Come along, then," she said leading him into the stone palace.

"I assume my chambers remain as they were before?" Georgina asked.

"Of course, Mother," Dorian said shoving aside his shock at Hollin's halfway human behavior. "I had them cleaned for you."

"Thank you," she said and headed into the palace after Hollin and Yrene.

Dorian shot a look at Chaol who just shrugged.

* * *

The weeks passed. Georgina's presence drew the courtiers back to the palace and within a week they were having parties just as they once had. Dorian avoided them like the plague, locking himself in his tower or shape-shifting into a crow and flying to the house Chaol was building for himself and Yrene or to the beach to watch the waves. Some nights he stood on his balcony, stared at the horizon and wondered how long it would take him to get to the Wastes if he shifted into a wyvern and made the wind blow at his back as he flew. He always managed to talk himself out of it. His magic was not boundless anymore and he needed to be careful of his limits. Someday, however, he promised himself, he would find an excuse to go the Wastes and see Manon's queendom just as she had seen his kingdom.

There were a number of strange things going on, though. Hollin had been remarkably subdued. He hadn't thrown any tantrums and hadn't even chosen a new room. When Dorian had asked about it, Hollin had simply said the room he was currently in was "fine" and hadn't elaborated when Dorian had pushed.

"Was he possessed before we defeated Erawan?" Dorian asked Yrene in an undertone one morning, after Hollin had been accidently served burnt porridge and had simply eaten it without comment until Georgina had swooped in and demanded something better for him.

"I checked the first day they arrived," Yrene replied, her hand resting on her growing belly. "There's no sign of Valg possession past or present."

"But he's acting so _different_ ," Dorian said. "What other explanation in there?"

Yrene shrugged. "He's had a hard few months, people change."

Dorian glanced across the room and saw that Hollin was watching him with an intense expression. "He keeps doing that," he said.

"Doing what?" Yrene asked, following his gaze.

"Watching me," Dorian said. "Every time I turn around he's staring at me. It's freaking me out. I'm starting to think he's plotting my murder."

"I don't think it's anything that drastic," Yrene said after a moment. "I'll see what I can find out, but it might not be much; I don't want to lose his trust."

"Thank you," Dorian said. "I'll sleep a lot better at night if I know what exactly's going on with him."

* * *

One night several weeks after Georgina and Hollin had returned to the palace, Dorian returned to his tower after a long day of politicking. When he finally got back to his tower, he had a headache and was exhausted from far too many nights of broken, nightmare-filled sleep. He was thinking of little more than collapsing face down onto his bed and trying to sleep for a few hours before the nightmares woke him again when he realized there was someone sitting on his bed. His first thought was that someone had broken in to kill him, then he recognized the moon-colored hair.

"Manon."

She lifted her head to look at him and he realized her face was streaked with tears. He started across the room towards her and she threw herself into his arms. Dorian wrapped his arms around her and said nothing. She would speak when she was ready.

Manon only allowed herself about five minutes of tears before she pulled away and pushed her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry," she said, tightly. "I just-"

"It's fine," Dorian said. "You're allowed to cry. I won't judge you for it and no one else should either."

Manon collapsed down onto the bed and hugged herself. Dorian sat down next to her, close enough that she could lean against him if she wanted but not close enough that they were touching in case she didn't want that. "I don't even know what's-why-" she sighed. "I can't figure out what is different than any other week. Nothing unusual happened. I just can't stop thinking about them and it _hurts_ and I just needed to get away so I came-"

" _So I came here."_ Dorian was flattered that he was person she thought to come to when she was upset, but that was something to feel proud about at another time. "That happens sometimes," he said once he'd had enough time to gather his thoughts and work out something intelligent to say. "I'm glad you came here instead of suffering alone."

Manon nodded, her lips pressed tight together like she was trying not to cry again. She ran her hands into her hair and gripped tight. She didn't have her iron nails out so Dorian took that as a victory, though she could pull her hair out by the roots without her nails.

"Can I hold you?" he asked. "Would that help?"

After a moment she nodded and Dorian carefully threaded his arms around her, holding her gently against him. Eventually they fell backwards onto the bed together and drew their legs up, not caring that they were both still wearing boots. Manon turned towards Dorian and wrapped her arms around him as well.

They lay together, listening to the sounds of their own breathing for a long, long time.

* * *

When Dorian next woke the room was dark and chilly now that the fire had gone out. Manon was still curled up against him, fast asleep. At first he thought the cold had been what had woken him, but then he heard a tentative knocking on the door. He closed his eyes and hoped whoever was would just go away, but the knocking came again and again.

He opened his eyes again to find Manon awake, her golden eyes glowing. "Do people often knock on your door in the middle of the night?" she asked.

"No."

"Then it's probably important," she said. "You should answer it. Who knows, maybe it's news that another demon king had broken into the world and has gone on a murderous rampage."

Dorian's stomach lurched at the thought. "That," he said. "Is not funny," but it got up and headed for the door.

When he opened the door, he was expecting news about anything from another country declaring war on Adarlan to Yrene going into early labor. What was actually waiting on the other side of the door was the exact last thing he ever would have expected.

"Hollin?"

His little brother looked up at him with serious eyes. He was dressed in sleep clothes and looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. "I need to talk to you," he said.

"Hollin, it's the middle of the night," Dorian said, positioning his body so Hollin couldn't see into the room and catch a glimpse of Manon. "You woke me up. Go back to bed; we can talk in the morning."

"You're still dressed," Hollin pointed out, eyebrows raised. "You even have your boots on."

He had a point. Dorian searched his mind for a better excuse but couldn't find one. "It's still late. You should be asleep and I need to get to bed if I'm going to be good for anything tomorrow. We can talk after breakfast." He started to close the door, but Hollin's hand shot out and stopped it.

"I know it wasn't you," Hollin said.

Dorian froze. "What are you talking about?" he asked, feeling ice crystals beginning to form on his teeth and tongue.

"At your birthday party. And around the palace before Mother and I were sent away," Hollin said. "It looked like you, it sounded like you, but it wasn't you. No one else seemed to notice, but I did and at first I thought I was crazy. Then we got trapped in the mountains and people were talking about how the enemy could invade someone and turn them into some else entirely, and I knew."

Dorian didn't know what it do. His ears rang and he felt like he was about to pass out. No one outside of those directly involved with Erawan's defeat were supposed to know about Dorian's possession. It was almost a bigger secret than the fact that Dorian had been the one to destroy the glass palace. _Hollin_ couldn't know. He just couldn't.

"I think you better let him in, princeling," Manon said coming up behind him. "This is not a conversation that should take place in a hallway."

Hollin's jaw dropped, his eyes got huge and his face turned beet red. "I-I-I-"

Manon pushed Dorian gently aside and motioned for Hollin to come in. "Don't be embarrassed," she crooned. "Nothing untoward is happening. Come in."

Hollin stepped cautiously into the room, eyeing Manon carefully. He wasn't stupid; he could tell Manon wasn't human.

Dorian closed the door softly and leaned against it as Manon motioned for Hollin to sit down on the bed. "You should sit down too, princeling," she said without looking at Dorian, "before you pass out."

Dorian sunk down onto the bed leaving a good amount of space between himself and Hollin. Manon kicked off her boots and hitched herself up on the end of the bed so she was sitting on the frame with her feet on the mattress. For several minutes none of them spoke then Dorian finally managed to figure out what to say, "You said you knew it wasn't me," He said "How could you tell? You barely know me."

"You didn't find excuses to leave the room whenever I entered it," Hollin said, matter-of-factly. "And Father actually seemed pleased with you most of the time."

Dorian bit his lip. He hadn't realized Hollin had noticed that he had avoided him, he'd thought the child to self-centered for that. The shame of it gutted him. Manon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed cautiously like she wasn't quite sure if she was doing it right.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Hollin said. "That's where that came from, isn't it?" He pointed at the band of pale skin around Dorian's neck.

Dorian couldn't stop from reaching up to touch the bare skin of his neck. "Yes," He said after a minute. "That's exactly where this came from."

Hollin said nothing, chewing on his lip for a long time. "But…" he said. "You're you now, right?" The words held more feeling than Dorian had ever heard from his little brother before. He realized this was what Hollin had meant when he'd asked if it was really Dorian on his first day back in Rifthold. He'd known that the last time he had seen Dorian it had been a demon and not his brother, and he'd been trying to figure out if that was still the case.

"It's me now," Dorian assured him. "I was rescued."

Hollin nodded very slowly as he worked it over. "Can it take over again?"

Dorian whole being tensed to hear someone state the very thing that haunted his nightmares. Manon squeezed his shoulder again. "No," he said after a moment, because that was what Hollin needed to hear. "Now that Erawan has been defeated, it can't."

Hollin pursed his lips and thought. Dorian waited for his reaction. "The soldiers in the keep talked about how the enemy could possess our own people," he said after a while. "Mother said that was a folktale, but it wasn't. That was how Erawan got his army." Dorian nodded and Hollin went on, "Did anyone else get possessed? Or was it just you?"

Dorian opened his mouth, then stopped. He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't just _tell_ Hollin about their father. Hollin was a child, and even if he wasn't, it wasn't like there was any real reason he needed know now.

As if she could tell what he was thinking, Manon leaned forward. "You should tell him," she said into his ear, soft enough that Hollin couldn't hear but Dorian's magic still picked up on it.

"I can't tell him," Dorian hissed back, knowing that Manon's immortal hearing was better than a human's. "He's a child."

"It's his father too," Manon said. "He deserves to know."

"What are you talking about?" Hollin asked, sounding suspicious for the first time in the conversation.

Dorian sighed and Manon pulled away, though her hand still remained tentatively on his shoulder. "Hollin," he said, trying to force the words out before he thought to much about what he was saying, "About our father…"

* * *

Dorian tried to keep it simple, but Hollin still looked shell-shocked by the time he was done. He wasn't surprised, after all, he'd destroyed a glass palace when he'd figured out his father had been possessed by a demon for most of his life. He felt like a terrible person for telling his little brother.

"Does Mother know?" Hollin finally got out.

"No," Dorian admitted. "I haven't been able to figure out how to tell her. Perhaps it's better for her if she doesn't know."

"If we both know she needs to," Hollin said. "Neither of us were married to him."

Dorian just stared at him. "When did you learn how to-" he cut himself off when he realized that whatever he was about to say would definitely been insulting.

Unfortunately, Hollin seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. "Things were bad at the keep," he said. "I suppose it could have been worse, but it still wasn't good. The officers and soldiers didn't take any shit, even from a prince."

Manon chuckled. Dorian turned to ask what she thought was so funny, but Hollin said, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Too late Dorian realized that he'd never introduced them. "Oh," he said, twenty years of court training the only thing keeping him from stammering. "Hollin, this is Manon. Manon, this is my brother, Hollin."

"I gathered as much," Manon said dryly. "A pleasure."

Hollin looked from Dorian to Manon and back again. "Are you lovers?" he asked.

Manon choked.

Dorian burst out laughing. "Why are you so surprised, witchling?" he asked. "Ironteeth witches don't marry!"

"I'm sorry," Manon snarled, though when he turned his head he could see that she was smiling. "I was under the impression that humans were more prudish than witches."

"He did grow up in the court of Adarlan," Dorian pointed out.

Hollin cleared his throat. "Am I correct in assuming that the fact that Mother hasn't been ranting about this means that this is another thing you haven't told her about this either?"

"Yeah," Dorian admitted. "She doesn't know about this either."

"Okay," Hollin said after a moment. "I'm just going to stay out of this then."

"That's probably wise," Manon said with a wicked smile that made Hollin cringe back in fear.

"Don't worry, she's harmless," Dorian said with a grin. "Her wyvern likes flowers."

Hollin chuckled cautiously, but Manon growled, "Thanks, princeling."

"It's true, you can't deny it," Dorian patted her hand comfortingly. "Don't worry, we all love Abraxos anyway."

She snarled, but Dorian just grinned at her.

* * *

Dorian was woken yet again by someone knocking on his door. He opened his eyes and squinted at the morning sunlight that was filling the room. He and Manon were curled up together on at the foot of the bed while Hollin was sleeping at the head. None of them had actually decided that was how they were going to spend the night, that was just what had happened after they'd stayed up until just before the sun rose. After a moment of wishing people would just let him sleep, Dorian disentangled himself from Manon and went to the door.

His mother was standing outside.

"Mother?" he said. "Is something wrong?"

"Tomorrow night I'm throwing a banquet," she said. "I have taken the liberty of announcing that you will attend and speak."

"Mother!" the word burst out of Dorian before he had a chance to think. "Mother, you can't just-"

"You have not attended a party of banquet since you became king," Georgina said. "You will attend this one."

"Mother, I am king," he said. "You cannot force me to do this."

"You are a young king with very little political support," Georgina said through her teeth. "You need to make the right impression and convince everyone that you're not insane and leading Adarlan to ruin."

"Why would I be leading Adarlan to ruin, Mother?" Dorian snapped. "Because I'm not leading this country on a path of bloody conquering under the orders of a demon?"

Georgina sucked in a breath. There was a flush high on her cheeks. Dorian didn't think he'd ever seen her so angry. "I'm not asking you to get down on your knees and worship a demon, Dorian!" she snapped. "I'm asking you to go to a party and speak to your people. I'm asking you to _flirt with women_. You'd think that you'd jump at the chance to do that."

Dorian tried not to scream. His mother didn't know what had happened to him, so it was unfair of him to expect her to understand. He wanted to tell her that there was no way that he would be going to the banquet, but if she had really told people he would be there he would have to attend or risk offending people. That was not something he could risk; Georgina was right about him needing political support.

"Fine," he snarled. "I'll be there."

"Good," she said. "Wear something fashionable. Like you used to." Then she turned and stalked away.

It took all Dorian's self control not to slam the door. Instead he closed it quietly. Manon and Hollin were watching him, but neither of them said anything. Dorian leaned back against the door and stared up at the ceiling.

None of them said anything for a long time.

* * *

The night of the banquet, Dorian ignored Georgina's request to wear something like he used to. He did dress for the occasion, but it was something that he could fight in if he needed to.

He left Manon in his chambers, paging idly through one of his favorite books. He wasn't sure why she hadn't gone back to Wastes yet, and he wasn't planning to ask for fear of causing her to leave. He knew that didn't make any sense, but that didn't stop him from worrying about it.

He was fashionably late for the banquet just like he'd learned to be as a younger man. Twenty years of life as a prince had trained him to be used to people staring at him, but he was not prepared for the way the entire ballroom froze when he was announced. It was as if everyone had been ordered to stare at the king and do nothing else. He faltered for a split second then his upbringing took over. He smiled easily and headed across the room towards Chaol and Yrene, the only non-threatening people in the room.

Even though this banquet was being held in a ballroom in the stone castle and not the glorious one in the glass palace, Dorian was shocked by how much it felt just the same. The room was decorated with unnecessary extravagance and the people looked the same and sounded the same. It even _smelled_ the same.

Dorian felt his stomach clench and his heartbeat start to speed up. He tried to ignore it. This was just a party. He'd been in hundreds before. There was nothing to be nervous about, even if he had been possessed the last time he'd been at a party of Adarlan's court.

When he reached Chaol and Yrene, he told himself to calm down. Chaol and Yrene would protect him. A second later he realized how ridiculous that was and cursed himself for thinking it.

"Well it seems that losing the glass palace did not change the court's parties in any substantial way," Chaol said, studying the decorations and the people. "I don't know why I'm surprised."

"Yeah," Dorian said blankly, still trying to get his nerves under control.

Yrene was watching him with a penetrating sort of _knowing_ that only healers seemed to possess. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he said. There was nothing else to say. He had to be here so he had no choice but to be fine.

Chaol looked more closely at Dorian, eyes narrowed as he looked for whatever had worried his wife. Before he could make his own inquiries about how Dorian was doing, someone swooped in and grabbed Dorian by the arm.

Dorian couldn't help it. He flinched. It wasn't a small flinch either. It was a big, obvious, impossible to hide flinch. His magic flared, coating his mouth with ice.

"I'm sorry for startling you, your majesty," the woman who was hanging off his arm said. Albertine. They'd been something once several years ago, before she'd run off with a soldier. Dorian didn't know the details and didn't want to, but she hadn't spoken to him since.

"Hello, Albertine," Dorian said. His words came out on a cloud of his breath even though the air around him was warm. He made a conscious effort to calm down.

"It's so nice to see you again after so long!" Albertine said like she hadn't been the one to call off their whatever-it-was. "I've missed you so and I know you must have missed me too!"

Dorian hadn't missed her and she knew she probably hadn't missed him either. Their relationship had been nothing more than teenagers fooling around and they'd both known that. The only reason Albertine was pretending otherwise was because Dorian was king now and that meant he needed a queen.

"It's nice to see you again," Dorian said mostly to be polite. He tried to extract his arm from Albertine's but her grip was too tight.

"It certainly is," She stood on her toes and leaned in close enough that Dorian could feel her warm, very human breath against his cheek. She was probably saying something flirty, but Dorian couldn't hear her. He couldn't hear anything anymore, not over the ringing in his ears.

Albertine had brown hair, but other than that, she didn't look like Sorscha at all. That didn't matter. The hair and the fragile humanness of her was enough. The ballroom and the banquet vanished and he was kneeling in the throne room of the glass palace, soaked in Sorscha's blood, screaming and screaming and screaming.

Someone ripped Albertine away from him and at the same time ripped him back into reality. Dorian blinked, breathless and off-balance as he tried to figure out where he was and what was going on. Sorscha's blood and the sound of his own screaming still echoed in his head.

"Hello, I'm Lady Yrene Westfall," Yrene was saying, her body placed defensively between Dorian and Albertine. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm so new to court and completely lost. Can you please show me around?"

"Dorian," Chaol said from Dorian's side. "Come with me."

Dorian nodded blankly and began to walk with his friend through the throngs of laughing people. He felt like he was looking at everything through a couple layers of separation. There had been so much blood…

"Can I touch you?" Chaol asked under his breath. That must have been something he'd learned from Yrene because pre-Yrene Chaol would never have realized that maybe he should ask first.

Dorian shook his head vigorously. He didn't want to risk Chaol's touch setting him off again.

"Alright," Chaol guided Dorian out of the ballroom and out into the gardens without touching him or letting anyone else touch him.

They walked through the gardens until Dorian couldn't anymore. "Stop," he said, stumbling up against a fountain, one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other clutching at his neck, fingers scraping against bare skin of his neck looking for a collar that wasn't there. "Stop."

"What's wrong?" Chaol asked, he was hovering nearby but not to close. "Dorian, what's going on?"

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Dorian got out through clenched teeth, his breaths distinct puffs in the far-from-freezing air. He swallowed heavily, trying to keep his stomach where it belonged.

He slid down the ground and curled up, forehead pressing against his knees. He stayed like that for a while without moving until his stomach began to settle and he was able to admit that the he probably wasn't going to puke if only because he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He lifted his head and Chaol was kneeling next to him looking like he had no idea what to do.

"What was that?" Chaol asked.

"Flashback," Dorian said roughly.

"Are you…" Chaol began then trailed off like he wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm alright now," Dorian forced himself to uncurl. There was blood under the nails of the hand that had been clawing at his throat. He'd broken skin. He sat on that hand in an effort to hide it, though he figured Chaol had probably already noticed.

They sat in silence for a long time, then Chaol said, "Does this happen often?"

Dorian shrugged. "Sometimes," he said. "There's a lot of different factors. It's happening a lot more now that the war is over, which doesn't make any sense."

Chaol thought for a long time. Dorian could see him trying to come up with the right thing to say and failing. Time and silence stretched on until Dorian heard giggling voices of a couple heading into the gardens. Chaol began to get to his feet, presumably to tell the couple to the return to the palace because the king was in the gardens, but Dorian was already and his feet and fleeing back to the palace.

He ignored Chaol calling after him.

* * *

As humiliating as it was, Dorian was on the verge of tears by the time he got back to his tower room. Manon was still sitting on his bed, bent over the book and looking considerably more engaged than she had been when he'd left. When she looked up she was smiling slightly, but when she saw him the expression froze and melted away into something unfamiliar.

"What happened?" she was on her feet and at Dorian's side in seconds. "Who hurt you? Tell me."

It took Dorian a minute to remember how to speak. "It's-It's nothing."

Manon snorted. "If you're going to lie to me, princeling, I'd appreciate more effort than that."

"Nothing happened," Dorian said. He made more of an effort to speak levelly and calmly this time and sort of managed it.

"I still don't believe you," Manon said, her golden eyes bored into him, seeming to see everything. "You're shaking like a leaf and you have blood under your fingernails. What happened? Where you attacked?"

"I-" Dorian tried, then looked away. He wasn't sure where to start. "No," he said. "I wasn't attacked. I-" he managed to look up at her again. "Do you have any idea how much blood there is when someone is beheaded?"

Understanding dawned on Manon's face. "Oh," she said.

Dorian turned away. "I don't even know why it happened. It should have been fine. And now Chaol probably thinks I'm insane and any number of the people could have seen. This is a disaster. I need to fix it. I don't know how to fix it. I-"

"Dorian," Manon said, when he didn't respond she said again, "Dorian," Then she lunged to the bed, picked something up and set it in his hands. It was the book she'd been reading. "You told me that this is one of your favorite books," she said. "Tell me what you like about it."

"But-" Dorian stared blankly down at the book. "But Chaol saw-"

"Dorian," Manon said, not necessarily sharply, but in a tone that allowed for no argument. "Tell me what you like about this book. Please."

Dorian took a deep shaky breath and tried to think. "Well, for one," he said tremulously. "It's got a really unique magic system..."

* * *

Dorian lost track of time as he and Manon sat on his bed. Dorian held the book in his lap and talked, describing why it was one of his favorites in a depth he'd never attempted before. Manon sat next to him nodding encouragingly and sometimes asking questions. She was undeniably deeply engaged and didn't complain even when he ended forgetting that she hadn't finished it and spoiling things.

When he finally reached the end, he sighed. "I need to go back to the party," he said. "I have a speech I need to give. It's been publicized. I can't just skip it."

"I'll come with you," Manon said. When Dorian just blinked at her in surprise she said, "Technically I'm a visiting foreign dignitary. No one will be able to question it if I show up and we'll have an excuse to stay close to each other."

She had a point and Dorian did not want to go and face that party again alone.

"Alright," he said. "Do you have something to wear?"

* * *

Manon had a clean set of riding leathers in her pack as well as her crown. Dorian almost asked why she felt the need to have that with her at all times, but she gave him a look that said not to.

Dorian changed because there were dirt and grass stains on the knees of his pants and because he just wanted to put his previous experience at the party behind him. His magic had healed the scratches he's gouged into his own throat while crawling at a nonexistent collar, but he still had to wash blood out from under his fingernails.

When he was finished with these preparations, Manon was ready as well. She was wearing a red cloak that Dorian recognized as one of his own from when he was much younger. She held another cloak out to him, this one a dark blue which matched with the clothes he was wearing. "Here," she said. "Put this on. We can match."

Dorian took the cloak with a smile and swung it over his shoulders. Though he owned cloaks, he had never been much for them as a fashion statement. He'd worn heavy black oilskin cloaks while traveling with the Thirteen to stay dry, but wearing one to a party was something that he normally wouldn't do. Granted, he did lots of things he normally wouldn't do now so it didn't matter that much.

Manon looked him up and down. "You look like you won't take anyone's shit," she said. "It's a good look for you."

"Thanks," He said. "So do you."

Manon grinned wickedly. "That's the point, princeling. That's the point."

* * *

Dorian found himself walking down the hall leading to the banquet hall again. He was still a little anxious but Manson's presence at his side calmed him.

Manon was studying the walls and ceiling and floor. Dorian could see her noticing the places where the stone castle was scarred from the broken shards of glass from the glass palace hurtling through the corridors. When most people noticed those things they looked horrified, but Manon looked impressed like she approved of the fact Dorian had been able to wreak this much havoc. Dorian was bizarrely comforted.

The guards were anything but comforted. Manon was unarmed, unless she had a knife down her down one of her boots like Dorian did, but she still radiated the aura of someone who could and would kill anyone who got in her way. The guards shifted worriedly and reached for their weapons. They all seemed to be contemplating whether or not they needed to swoop in and save their king. Dorian gave a couple of them an easy grin in an attempt to show that everything was fine.

The man whose job is was to announce anyone entering the the ballroom room banked at Dorian's reappearance and outright flinched at sight of Manon beside him.

"Sorry to bother you again," Dorian said politely. "But can you please announce us?"

The man ripped this terrified gaze away from Manon and stammered, "Yes, your Highness. How should I announce the lady?"

"Manon Blackbeak-Crochan," Manon said coolly. "Queen of the Witches."

Somehow the man managed to become even paler and more terrified. "Yes, right. A pleasure to meet you, you Highness," he gave a quavering little bow and hurried off to take his position.

Dorian stood before the doors and took a moment to put himself together and prepare for the returning the party. He straightened his cloak and sleeves and reminded himself that he could be as uncomfortable as he wanted when all this was over.

"Are you going to take my arm?" Manon asked.

Dorian blinked. "Do you want me to?"

She grinned. "Think of it. We'd probably give Lord Westfall and your mother aneurysms."

Dorian smiled at the thought and held out her arm. She slid her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. "We'll just hang out and scare your mother and best friend until you need to give your speech," Manon said, matter-of-factly. "Then we'll return to your tower. I know you haven't been sleeping any better than I have; we both need to rest."

Under other circumstances, Dorian might have argued, but the idea of the party having a definite end was comforting. "Okay," he agreed.

"Good," she said as the doors to the ballroom opened. They both turned to face forward and lifted their heads high.

They walked into the ballroom arm in arm, and somehow the stunned faces of the guests seemed more manageable.


End file.
